EverNight
by Lord of Kavaka
Summary: Very AU. Kate Beckett's life was forever changed when her mother was killed by the Big Bad Wolf. Caskett in the Fairytale World. My 50th fanfic.
1. Prologue: Once Upon A Crime

**EverNight**

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**Prologue – Once Upon A Crime**

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_9 Years Ago…_

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She ran down the dark forest road, her red cloak flapping wildly behind her. Beneath her breast her heart pounded with a profound fierceness that was almost overwhelming. She didn't want to believe it. She couldn't. It just couldn't be true. She couldn't believe the watch captain's words. She wouldn't. She had to see it with her own eyes. Until then, it was just a terrible mistaken on his part.

"Katherine! Kate!" her father shouted behind her. "Please… Katie! Stop!" He was falling behind, but she couldn't wait for him to catch up with her.

She had bolted out of their house before the watch captain had even finished delivering the terrible news. Her long legs gave her an advantaged over her father, who'd lived a softer life as one of Yorkshire's resident barristers. She ignored all his calls and shouts, focusing all her attention on pumping her legs harder, running faster.

The clouds shifted above, and moonlight flirted through the canopy of gnarled and twisted branches overhead. Just enough light was allowed through to illuminate the well-trodden forest road. The watch captain had said that it had happened at the Golden Oak. It pained Kate that such a place filled with happy memories seemed fated to be tainted by the worst sort of event possible. She could still vividly recall the joyous family picnics from her childhood in the meadow behind the Golden Oak. She would pick wildflowers and hide them shyly behind her back before presenting them to her mother.

With great heaving gulps of air, Kate spurred herself onward, trying with all her might to stifle the rising tide of tears that wanted to flow down her cheeks. She wouldn't cry. Not yet. Not before she had irrevocable proof. Her mother had taught her that. "Follow the evidence, and that'll lead you to the truth," she'd always said. Kate desperately hoped that tonight the truth would be that the watch captain had been horribly wrong.

She rounded a bend, and saw them. Silver breastplates and helmets glimmered in the moonlight, long capes cascaded behind them in waves of green wool, high-grade, sheered from flocks owned by the prestigious Peep Family just west of the Hood, in Tuffet Hills. Several soldiers from the nearby garrison were milling around the Golden Oak, which glistened as always in a shimmering display of light. They were standing watch as the local Yorkshire guards—heads bowed and shoulders slumped, looking dispirited—surveyed the scene of the crime, so to speak.

Kate shoved down the wail of grief that wanted out as she bounded towards them. The soldiers were startled by her sudden appearance, and most were slow to react to the unexpected arrival of a young nineteen-year-old. A dark skinned soldier, with the insignia of a sergeant, was the one who caught her. He grabbed her before she could make it around the large tree and into the meadow beyond.

"No!" she cried out, fighting against the strong arms that wrapped around her. "No! Let me go! I… I have to see her."

"No, you don't," the soldier whispered, trying to shield her from the sight in the meadow. "Trust me."

Kate ignored his warnings. She pushed and kicked, punched and squirmed; yet the man's hold was too firm. He wasn't going to make it easy on her. She struggled harder, scanning what was visible of the meadow beyond with frantic eyes. And that's when she saw it. Strewn across the ground was her mother's hooded red cloak, nearly identical to the one Kate wore. Except her mother's cloak had jagged tear marks down one side and dark wet splotches soaking the rich fabric.

Her eyes drifted up a little further and…

"NO!" Kate's voice cracked and she broke down into sobs. She lost all her fight. Her body went limp. She had nothing left. She was spent. How could this have happened? Her mother had just left that afternoon to visit Kate's great-grandmother. It was so simple. Just over the river and through the woods. Nothing too complicated about that.

"Come here," the soldier whispered sympathetically, turning her away from the bloody sight, and tucking her into his chest. He rocked her gently, trying to soothe her with comforting words. But none came. Never would. Not for her. Not now. Her mother had been killed. She was dead. And nothing could change that.

This wasn't supposed to happen, not in real life. Such terrible things should be reserved for the nightmares parents told their children at night so they would behave. _Be good, or the Big Bad Wolf will come and get you_. But no. It was real. All too real.

"Montgomery!" an older soldier with a crested helmet called out. "Leave the girl be. McCallister and Raglan need help moving the body."

"Sir," the soldier— Montgomery—responded in an even tone, remaining respectful to his superior. "It… that's her mother."

"I know… and I'm sorry," the captain said, brow lowering in apology. "But we need to move the body before it gets too late. The commander wants this done before midnight."

"I see her father coming down the road, let me at least get her back to him first," Montgomery pressed.

The captain narrowed his eyes, his brow lowering in thought. "Fine, but no delay," he relented, glancing about nervously as a lone wolf howl sounded in the distance. "I don't want to stay out here a moment longer than necessary."

"Yes, sir," Montgomery inclined his head, shifting his hold on Kate and turning her away from the Golden Oak and her dead mother.

She swallowed down a sob, and blinked her eyes. Through her blurry vision, Kate could just barely make out her father huffing and puffing down the road. The sight of him struggling to maintain a decent speed tugged at her heartstrings. She'd just lost a mother, but he'd lost his wife, the woman he loved. And what had she done? She'd just ran off without a second thought as to anyone but herself.

He had one hand at his side, soothing an old injury from his younger years, but managed to keep his pace. As soon as he was close enough, Kate launched herself out of Montgomery's arms, diving straight into the familiar embrace of her father. He hugged her as she buried her face into his chest, wrapping her arms tightly around his torso, needing to be as close to him as possible.

Her father squeezed his arms around her, and she let the tears flow, no longer holding back. She shook in his arms with each sob that rocked her body. He tried to soothe her, but even he wasn't able to take away the pain. Nothing would. Nothing could.

Kate's heart couldn't take it anymore—all that pain and grief. It wasn't worth the risk anymore. She'd let herself grieve. But then she'd lock away her emotions and focus on doing what needed to be done to avenge her mother's death, because she didn't believe for a moment that a "random animal attack" could account for the amount of brutality she'd seen.

No.

Someone was responsible for her mother's death.

And Kate Beckett would make them pay.

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_***A/N: This will be my 50th fanfic posted on FFN. And I wanted to do something fun and different. So I decided to combine my love for Castle and fantasy/fairytales. Even though they won't be exactly the same as they are in the show, I'll try to keep them as close to in character as I can. So here's Caskett in a fairytale world. I've also made a map of the fantasy world they're inhabitating, the link is on my profile page.**_


	2. A New Story

**EverNight**

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**Chapter 1 – A New Story**

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"Is he dead?"

"Of course he's dead! Look at his throat."

They'd stumbled upon it, lying there, in a ditch by the side of the road. A fresh kill. They both knew it was potentially dangerous to stop and examine it, but the two young lads couldn't help themselves. The eyes were as black as death itself, and a jagged flap of flesh was torn from the man's gullet. Dark blood had pooled around the corpse, and the stench was something fierce. It was a gruesome sight, but they had seen worse. Back in town the lads had watched as the tanners skinned and prepared a large buck. The antlers still hung on display at the village tavern, a trophy to impress travelers.

"Do you think he was robbed?"

"I don't know. I never heard of robbers hereabouts."

The younger boy glanced up towards the sky, an anxious expression on his face. The oak trees swayed in the gentle breeze, creaking eerily. The setting sun was casting a crimson glow against across horizon. "We should go. My Da said he'd give me a beating if I wasn't back by sunset."

"Don't be a scaredy-cat, Grover," the other boy goaded, sticking his tongue out at the younger lad and teasing him. "Besides, your Da's probably passed out in his own piss right now from too much mead."

Grover let out a nervous laugh. "Yeah, he probably is." He took a couple of hesitant steps closer to the corpse, frowning as he bent over to scan the ragged remains of the man's clothes. "I don't see no purse or pouch, Billy. So yeah, could've been robbers that done him in."

"My old Nanners said that all manner of outlaws and thieves make the Hood their home," Billy explained, always the know-it-all. "A long while back, some high lord calling himself Robin of the Hood used to harass other nobles along the road, taking tolls for their safe passage through the wood."

"Yeah, my Ma tells me stories about him," Grover agreed, bobbing his head enthusiastically. "He took from the rich and gave to the poor."

Billy snorted. "That's probably just a myth. The knave probably kept it for himself, for drinking and whoring."

Grover made a face. "Why'd you always gotta be so mean, Billy?"

"I'm not mean!"" the older boy objected, scowling. "I just tell it as it is! Look at this fella here. He was probably just going for an afternoon stroll when some brigand slashed his throat for his coin purse." He put his hand on Grover's shoulder. "The world's not a fairy tale, Grover. It's a harsh place."

"Did you're old Nanner's tell you that?"

Billy stood there for a moment, looking at his younger friend, silently contemplating whether or not he should tell him the truth or not. Grover was a sensitive kid, still somewhat sheltered by his protective Ma. The only times Grover ever really saw the realities of the world were on the days he'd spend them with Billy.

"Yeah, she did," he lied.

"What should we do?" Grover asked after a long silence, looking to Billy for direction.

"We go home," he said.

"That's it?" Grover asked, astonished.

"Aye," Billy said with the nod. "But on the way, we'll tell the watch we found a body."

"You sure about that, lads?"

The deep voice startled them. They jumped back from the corpse, glancing around frantically, terrified to find themselves surrounded by what looked like a band of highwaymen.

XXX

He'd been waiting by this spot for a while, since before the young lads arrived and began poking at the corpse with a stick. Their fascination was to be expected, he'd had similar interests when he was their age. Death had always intrigued him. It was indiscriminate, striking rich and poor alike, one of man's constant foes. But it was the hows and whys that fascinated him, the reasons behind why one man would slay another man, and not the gruesome brutality of it. There was always a story. And _that_ was what attracted him the most to such macabre things.

The boys were lingering too long over the corpse, jabbering away like chipmunks. His keen eyes spotted the rustle in the brush. The bandits had sprung out before he could react, surrounding the boys within seconds. There was nothing he could do. So he slunk back, remained hidden, and watched the scene unfold, a silent observer.

This wasn't his fight. He never much cared for violence, except in the old tomes he read as a child, the stories of knights and dragons, of heroic acts and adventures. It had been a childish fantasy, but it had been enough to entice him out of his comforts and into the deep dangerous forests of the Hood, where he could be whomever he wanted to be. He had joined up with the band of adventurers, and left his old life behind, tossing aside his old name and putting on the persona of a ranger from the west named Castle. It was an odd moniker, but it helped him remember where he'd come from… and what he was running away from.

Life back home just didn't hold any spark. It was dull and boring. He wanted adventure. And he got it. It just wasn't what he'd expected. Despite his desire to escape from his previous life, he still often thought of home, worried how his mother was taking his absence. He loved her, and never wished to hurt or cause her grief, but he had to leave, especially after he'd discovered the truth of a terrible secret.

Shaking his head, no longer wishing to dwell on such things, Castle turned his attention back to the scene unfolding in front of him. From the cut of the bandit leader's pointy beard and the guttural way in which he spoke, it was clear that he wasn't a native to the Hood. The style of his fur jerkin and horned helm was that of the wild folk from the east, uncivilized and lawless, or so the propaganda from the Imperial Palace would have the peasants believe.

It soon became evident that the ruffians intended on selling the boys at a slaver's market in the Wild Wood. Indentured servitude and serfdom still existed, but outright slavery had been outlawed in the five kingdoms long ago. The punishment for slaving was death by hanging. The Imperial decree was enough to deter most, even if not all the five kingdoms enforced it to such extremes.

Slowly, careful to not make a sound, Castle adjusted his stance, reaching over his shoulder to retrieve an arrow from the quiver strapped to his back. He raised his bow and nocked the arrow in place. Gripping it with his middle and ring fingers, he pulled the string taut and took his aim. He inhaled through his nose and narrowed his eyes on his target, the bandit leader. The man turned his body at just the right angle, exposing a vulnerable weakness in his rudimentary armor.

Castle was prepared to release his arrow when suddenly another arrow flew out of nowhere, embedding itself in the thick neck of the bandit leader. He cried out and brought his hand up to put pressure on the injury, trying desperately to staunch the blood flow. As he staggered back Castle wasted no time in letting his arrow loose. It impacted the brute square in the chest, putting an end to his futile struggle. He collapsed in the mud, right alongside the corpse. The two young boys jumped back in fright. But the other brigands responded with surprising speed. They hoisted the lads up onto their shoulders and scrambled back into the brush, seeking shelter within the dense woods.

The pounding of marching boots echoed through the Hood, and Castle crouched down, wary of soldiers. The Imperial Palace had distributed bounties with his likeness sketched on the parchment. He wasn't too keen on getting caught. Despite the risk, he stayed, wanting to know what happened next. He may be a rogue, but he still cared about what happened to those boys.

Five men armored in chainmail and leather jerkins, with peaked helmets covering their heads, arrived within seconds. One was clearly an archer, his bow still strung and at the ready. The others had drawn their short swords, and were taking point as they followed after the bandits. Castle recognized the emblem emblazoned on the right breast of their jerkins. These were Yorkshire guards.

Castle moved back, concealing himself behind a large fern shrub as more guards arrived. A guard with a swarthy complexion began shouting orders. From his skin tone, he must have been from one of the southern realms beyond the Troll Mountains. It wasn't uncommon for foreigners to take up service with the city watch. It provided them with a steady income in strange lands. Plus, most city watches were desperate for fighting men.

By his count there were about fifteen guards now present. Minus the five that went after the bandits, that made twenty in total. Castle raised his eyebrows in astonishment. That was a large number of guards to be on patrol this deep in the Hood. Obviously the body had been reported prior to his arrival on the scene. Castle had his theories as to the nature of the killer, and with the sizeable force sent out by the Yorkshire city watch to investigate, he felt he had confirmation of his suspicions.

He watched as the guards began to properly examine the scene. They evidently weren't too concerned with the recovery of the boys. And with the battle prowess of the five men who went after them, Castle believed he understood the reason behind their apparent indifference. He took it as his cue to leave. But before he could fully withdraw, he caught sight of the latest arrival.

She rode in on a fine white steed. The shining steel of her breastplate probably turned a head or two. It wasn't everyday that a woman was seen dressed in the uniform of a lieutenant of the city watch. Most women who opted for a profession outside of hearth and home, choosing the life of an adventurer, usually took up with the legion, sellswords, or a band of adventurers, like Castle had. A few even joined the Wizard's College in the Hamptons.

Service in the city watch was dull and hard, and never had the rewards that service with the army had, or the pay. For many men it was a last resort when all else was lost. Most of them were either rejects from the army, foreigners, young pups, or old men barely scraping by. So to see a woman in the prime of her life bearing the badge of an officer of the city watch was a rare sight indeed.

Rarer still, for one of such beauty. Her golden brown hair was pulled back into a braided ponytail, revealing her refined features. She had a noble bearing to her. Perhaps she was a highborn lady flaunting social conventions and serving beneath her status. It wasn't a frequent occurrence, but Castle had known one or two such well-born ladies who had shrugged off the yoke of nobility to seek fulfillment in a profession far below their station.

The emblem of her rank was embroidered along the sleeves of the green wool tunic she wore underneath her breastplate, and a crimson cloak cascaded down her back, flapping in the wind as she rode towards the squad of guards clustered around the ditch. There was no denying her authority, and Castle found himself utterly fascinated. He couldn't pull his eyes away from her.

He halted in his retreat and slowly traced back his steps to his previous hiding spot. It might be foolish, and idiotic, but something within him compelled him to stay.

There was more of a story here than he had originally believed.


	3. A New Lead

**EverNight**

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**Chapter 2 – A New Lead**

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The wind whipped around her as she dug her heels into the sides of her mount, encouraging the white stallion into a gallop. The sun was setting, and what little light that filtered down through the thick branches above was fading fast. Kate Beckett knew that the lack of light would hamper her investigation. Esposito and a detachment of guards had preceded her while she'd talked with the commander of small squadron of soldiers garrisoned in a nearby hamlet from the location she'd been sent to investigate. They had been of little help, and the stop had only served as a delay.

The day had started off relatively calm in the city of Yorkshire and the surrounding villages. There had been no incidents aside from two tavern brawls, one pickpocket, and a heated quarrel between two pig farmers over a large sow about to give birth. However, after the midday meal, unusual reports had begun to filter in from vagabonds and merchants traveling along the forest roads. Kate had taken it upon herself to question one of the peddlers, a short round man with bushy eyebrows, and found that the true details hidden within his rather exaggerated recollection to be quite worrisome. She had immediately informed Captain Montgomery of her suspicions, after which he had ordered her to investigate.

In the distance Kate could spot the flickering orange light of torches and knew she had finally caught up with Esposito and the other city watch guards. As she neared them, she spotted what looked like some cutthroats attempting to snatch two small children. She watched as one of the archers launched an arrow, taking out the leader of the brigands. But the others had faster wits that she'd given credit, and were soon making off with the two boys.

"Esposito!" Kate called out as she pulled the reins back and brought her horse to a halt as she arrived on the scene. "Send five more men after those bandits. I want those boys rescued."

"On it, Lieutenant," he said with a brisk nod, and quickly issued out orders to his subordinates.

Feeling the tightness in her chest loosen after she watched five guards rush into the forest in the direction the bandits had absconded with the young boys, Kate slowly dismounted. One of the remaining guards quickly rushed forward to grab the reins as she stepped forward to confer with Esposito.

"What have we got?" she asked, all business. Early on in her service with the Yorkshire Watch, Kate had mastered the art of masking her emotions. Scenes like the one in front of them were rare, but never failed to remind her of a night nine years prior.

"This one here is our bandit leader," Esposito gestured to the large brute lying face first in the mud, blood slowly oozing out around him. "Went down with two arrows." He stepped over the body as Kate carefully maneuvered around it, avoiding the pooling blood. "This is the one I think you'll be more interested in."

"Indeed," Kate said with a raised eyebrow as she squatted down to inspect the original corpse. The jagged cuts and gashes were consistent with an animal attack. As always before examining a body, Kate took a moment to simply pause and reflect, to remind herself of the reason she'd taken up this calling. It was a ritual of hers. It helped keep her sane in the face of so much death.

"You think it was a wolf that did this?" Esposito questioned, cocking his head to the side as he stared down at the mauled body, and then after some thought added, "Or a pack of wolves?"

"No," she shook her head, glancing up at him before returning to her examination of the body. "See these slashes here," she indicated three large gashes along the man's chest with a finger. "These were made by one animal. A big one." She narrowed her eyes, pulling her lower lip under her teeth as she thought of the similarities to another attack.

"Like what?" Esposito asked, brow furrowing in befuddlement.

Kate sighed and ran her hand across her forehead. She looked up at him, unsure how to explain. Not many knew about her mother's death, and how profoundly it had affected her. She'd worked with Esposito for several years now, and he knew that the death of her mother had helped spur her into her current profession. But he did not know her theory on her mother's killer, and she was uncertain as to whether or not he would even believe it. Not many did.

According to the legends, their kind were attracted to red. And her mother had always been fond of the color, and even as a little girl would wear a red cloak, which had earned her the moniker of 'Red Riding Hood'. Johanna had continued to wear a red cloak throughout her life. She'd been wearing her favorite red cloak the night she'd been attacked and killed. Kate wore one herself, but now, it was out of defiance, goading them. She had spent the last nine years preparing, and she was ready. All she needed was to capture one, and maybe then she could find out who killed her mother.

Some people would have called the beast that killed her mother a lycanthrope, or werewolf to the common folk.

But not Kate.

To her, the beast that killed her mother would always be the Big Bad Wolf.

There were not many who would believe such tales of werewolves and the like, which was kind of odd considering the bountiful amount of wondrous and terrible creatures that inhabited the world. But no one had actually ever seen one. As a result, they inhabited a realm of lore alongside dragons, long since extinct, only the bones left behind as evidence of their existence.

"Did you ever hear tales of werewolves growing up?" she asked tentatively, cautiously hoping her colleague to trust her.

Esposito knitted his eyebrows together. "Yeah, my grandmother would tell us stories to warn us about staying out late at night." He paused, realization hitting him. He shook his head, casting a dubious look in her direction. "Oh, no, no, no. You don't seriously believe that… that a _werewolf_ killed this man. Do you?"

Kate offered an ambiguous expression, and let him draw his own conclusions. She knew it was unlike her to show belief in such things, always a head in reality. But in this, there was no wiggle room. She was absolutely certain that a werewolf had killed her mother that fateful night, and that another one had attacked this man. And since the kill was fresh, it could very well still be stalking these very woods.

"Nah… you're pulling my leg? Right?" he narrowed his eyes and shook his head again. Little out a little laugh. "Good one, Beckett. You had me there for a second."

"Yeah, you got me," Kate relented with a forced laugh, easily lying. It was easier. She could see he was not ready to believe, at least not yet. There were other pressing matters at present. "Probably a wolf," she asserted as she stood up. "A large wolf."

Esposito nodded in agreement as they stepped away from the body. The carters would soon be arriving to carry the body back to the township mortuary. She did not envy the local undertaker his job. As Kate moved around the fallen bandit leader, she stopped and gazed down at the two arrows protruding from his body.

"Beckett?" Esposito inquired, unsure as to why she'd stopped.

One of the arrows was different. The arrow in the brute's neck was clearly Yorkshire crafted, the feathers was unmistakable unique to the fletchers of Dice Street. But the second arrow, the one in his chest, was different. The white feathers weren't from any common bird used by the Dice Street fletchers. She reached down and yanked the arrow out, examining the iron head.

"What is it?" Esposito inquired, watching her with hesitant eyes.

Kate handed the arrow to him and he examined it. "Just unusual," she said. "The Yorkshire fletchers use dark feathers."

"An arrow's an arrow," he offered with a shrug. "Our funds have been running low as of late. Doesn't matter wear we buy them, as long as they work."

"True," Kate sighed, rubbing her forehead. Maybe she was overthinking things and it was making her see patterns that weren't there. It had been a long day, and her long trip out here hadn't produced the results she'd been hoping for.

"Almost seems like a wasted trip," Esposito said, interrupting her thoughts as they walked back up to the road, "when all we have is a rogue wolf roaming the forest."

"I wouldn't say that," Kate gave him a little glare. "As would the families of those two young boys." She rested her hand on the pommel of her sword, glancing away to stare off into the woods. There was a menace out there, and it was taking all her willpower not to just march off and hunt it down.

"Speaking of," Esposito inclined his head towards the eastern road where the ten soldiers who'd been sent to rescue the boys were returning victorious.

The young lads both looked to be in shock and Kate offered up her mount to transport the boys back to their village. Esposito went with them, accompanied by the ten rescuers, leaving her with ten soldiers to scour the local vicinity for any evidence that might shed more light on the killing. But with the fast approaching nightfall, she doubted they would find anything.

"Lieutenant!" a man hissed from the far side of the road.

Kate glanced up from the tracks she was investigating. She trotted over, and he pointed out the disturbances made to the bushes along the small incline. There was barely enough light from the moon to spot the indications of footprints. She followed them as they trailed away from the road and into the brush, mysteriously stopping by the trunk of a gnarled looking tree.

She frowned and signaled from the guard to pull out his sword. Doing the same, Kate gripped the hilt of her sword tightly in her hand as she slowly paced around the tree, eyes wide and alert. Someone had been observing them. Controlling her breathing, Kate focused her senses on her surroundings. Any little detail could be crucial at a time like this.

The night was silent. Too silent.

Kate skidded around the tree, circling it once more as she looked for clues. There were no more tracks. They ended by the tree trunk and simply disappeared… or stopped. She glanced up at the guard and gave a slightly jerk of her chin. He nodded, understanding. Slowly, they tilted their heads up.

A shadow fell from above, colliding with her. Kate grunted as she collapsed to the ground. For a brief moment she was too stunned to act. She laid there, immobilized with surprise, before her facilities returned to her. Pushing up, she clutched her sword and swung it up in a defensive posture only to be met with nothing but air. Whatever had fallen upon them was gone. The guard was clambering up to his feet, shaking head, looking somewhat dazed. She looked at him and he looked back, equally perplexed. The watcher was gone.

Kate scowled in irritation and sheathed her sword. With the dwindling light it would be damn near impossible to trace the observers tracks. But she wasn't ready to give up just yet. She stalked back to the road, just in time to greet the undertaker as his cart rolled up.

"Lieutenant Beckett," he inclined his head in recognition. "It seems you've found me more than one corpse to haul away."

"Hope that's not too much of an inconvenience, Perlmutter," she replied with a straight face.

"Not at all," Perlmutter replied in his normal caustic manner. "The more the merrier."

Kate bobbed her head and moved away, letting the undertaker and his attendants get to work on moving the bodies. Perlmutter may be abrasive at times, but she respected his abilities. He was one of the few undertakes in all of five kingdoms who would actually perform a necropsy. She was tolerant of his acerbic attitude because she knew he would be able to provide her with detailed reports afterwards.

"What are your orders, Lieutenant?" one of the guards asked.

She furrowed her brow and watched as Perlmutter and his assistants moved the bodies into the cart. Sighing, she turned away and glared out into the darkening forest. "It's too dark to do much else," she said. "We'll camp here for the night and do a proper search in the morning."

Something had to give. Kate had been hunting for clues about the mysterious beast that had killed her mother for years, and now that it appeared similar attacks were occurring, she found herself with little to no evidence to back up her claims that it was the work of the Big Bad Wolf, or similar creatures. But tonight had been different. Someone had been observing the crime scene. And if she trusted her abilities to detect the minutest detail, Kate was positive that their observer had been there long before her or her men had arrived.

He knew something. And Kate was not going to let this lead slip past her fingers.


End file.
